This article was originally published in the Carrick Joyce Gazette as a tribute to the 110th anniversary of King George’s passing.
Today we remember King George Float-Stone, the jolly king who once ruled our fair nation so kindly. In the 110 years since his passing, the loss of our beloved king is still widely felt across the country; his successor, in respect to his father, has chosen to remain anonymous.
A portly man, whose presence was often preceded by his deep baritone laughter, George’s face has been described to be so lined with the wrinkles of his smiling that he often looked somewhat dehydrated. Artists of his time have tended to depict King Float-Stone with an oft embellished brush: showing him to have a strong beard and hair quite prone to become tasseled by even the slightest breeze.
It is clear that we can not trust these paintings to be indicative of the jolly king’s true appearance, but it has long been the Gazette’s official stance on such matters, that if the mythology of our nation is unable to be embellished, then it will be doomed to be forgotten; truth is opaque.
Inheriting the throne from his father before him, George quickly emboldened to his rule and announced a series of sweeping changes to the laws of Stallinger that had gone mainly unchanged for over a dozen centuries.
Millers were announced as heretics, and then officially pardoned after it was explained what they were; The King’s guard was re-regimented by order of height; birds were formally banned from sleeping in the royal aviary.
It was a time of great change.
Of the more outlandish laws introduced, the king ardently enforced an off-cuff royal decree in that there should be ‘a bar on every corner and a corner on every bar’.
This mass redistribution of property looked to destroy the already overworked town planning guild; so, for their own sanity, they demolished the very centre of the city and constructed a cobblestone square lined with 12 pubs in its place.
As the King never ventured more than two blocks into his city, Float-Stone announced these efforts to be Good enough and created a public holiday in celebration.
Before the jolly king’s rule, the city of Carrick Joyce had long existed without the dedicated sewer network we so rely on today.
It was common practice in that time, enforced by legal writ, that any person(s) shall dispose of their night soil by hefting it into the domicile of one that was poorer than one’s self.
While many of the upper class of our city miss the traditions of old, the city as a whole does smell a whole lot better and seem happier for it.
The Sewer network is a complex labyrinth of pipes and aqueducts that is said to be far more extensive than Carrick Joyce itself–the simplified map of the network is now over two dozen pages for example.
This masterwork of plumbing and architecture came to being when King George, after far too much wine soaked cheese, made a bet with the construction union that they could not create a perfect sewer. The union, whose lack of imagination is more than made up for in their unhumoured literality, took this bet and have been working towards perfection ever since.
The unfortunate effects of piling an entire labour force into one project was later rectified by the creation of the New Workers Union; to which a public holiday was then created in celebration.
In his most memorable misstep, King Float-Stone decided to disband the Flanksmen, our nation’s militarised postal service. Thinking it was to save him money George found that he had effectively bankrupted the kingdom, as its primary source of income was abruptly cut off.
Quietly re-establishing them the next day, then penning a strongly worded letter of apology, King Float-Stone managed to revitalise his kingdom just before enough people were able to form an angry mob.
Towards the end of his life George had finally discovered the folly of his ill-considered speeches after he announced that, ‘Any person of Carrick Joyce who wishes to share a drink a member of the royal family may forever do so!’ Tragically he later succumbed to alcohol poisoning that same afternoon and passed away.
In reverence to both his generosity and his hubristic demise, the people of Carrick Joyce are now asked to buy a small glass of ale with their first drink and give cheers to a king, who was so thoroughly hoisted by his own petard.
So today, as you lift your glass for George Float-Stone, pause and remember his legacy; may we never have another ruler like him.
TO GEORGE! Your nation weeps for thee.
J.McCray
2020
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